


Slices Of Life

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 100 to 300 word drabbles that tell the story of a relationship between Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper, from the very beginning to the birth of their child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slices Of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onceinabluemoon13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceinabluemoon13/gifts), [MaybeItsJustMyType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/gifts), [sideofrawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideofrawr/gifts).



> So I asked my Tumblr followers to give me vagueish prompts and either the number 1, 2 or 3 and (depending on the number) I took the prompt and wrote a 100, 200 or 300 word prompt fic for them. This is the collection of those fics (plus a few new ones, suggested by my mother) put together to tell a story.

**Almost, But Not Quite Yet**

They were tiptoeing around a new level of intimacy between them, around being something more than just friends. She could see it in his actions, hear it in the words he so carefully chose. She wanted to be more, had wanted to be for a long while. Had wanted to be even when she shouldn’t have been, to be honest. When it wasn’t appropriate. But her heart had wanted him, and it wasn’t fair to say she loved someone else when she couldn’t give him her whole heart, fully and completely.

Not when Sherlock had had it for so long.

And she could see him dealing with it in his mind. It had to be strange, to realize maybe he did feel more than friendly feelings towards her. She understood that, and so she gave him space, gave him time to sort it out. She was still his friend, still his partner, but she didn’t push.

She’d waited a long time.

She could wait a little longer.

She was sure he would see, eventually, that they were a good fit, that she could make him happy. And when he did? She’d be there, arms open, ready to take that leap.

**From Jealousy**

He studied the roses Mary had sent her for her birthday, glaring at them. He was jealous. He thought a man had sent them. It was rather adorable.

“If others don’t have all your attention tonight, I’d like to take you to dinner. To celebrate your birthday. If not tonight than tomorrow, if you are otherwise occupied. It would be a…date.”

She gave him a wide smile. “Tonight’s lovely,” she said. “Should I dress nicely?”

He nodded, seeming to relax. “Yes. Does seven work?”

“Seven’s fine.” He gave her a grin and left, leaving her feeling quite giddy about tonight.

**Comforting Embrace**

He held her close as she sobbed. No matter what other type of relationship they had, he would, first and foremost, be her friend. And when she was in pain he would comfort her. He was still getting used to the physicality of their relationship but right now she needed his arms around her, holding her close, giving her his strength.

She pulled her head up and kissed him softly. “Thank you,” she said quietly, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “I really needed that, Sherlock.”

“Any time,” he said, and he meant every word of that.

**Deeper Conversations**

He enjoyed the conversations he had with her. He enjoyed the things they talked about, the topics ranging from cases to science, pop culture to music. They would talk for hours and hours, staying at restaurants and coffee shops until almost closing or sitting at Baker Street or her flat late until it got late and one of them needed to leave. Right now she was curled up against him, enjoying a glass of wine as he was flipping through the book of poetry she’d been reading.

“You have this page turned down,” he said. “’Something Like a Star.’”

"It's a poem about religion and science, and how some people use religion to comfort themselves while others use science, but in the end humanity needs reassurance from some higher power, whether it's God or a distant star,” she said.

“An interesting concept,” he said. “Not that I agree.”

“Well, I believe in God, too,” she said. 

“Why?” he asked, shifting to pull her closer.

“Some things are unexplainable by science,” she said. “So I believe that there’s a higher power that guides them. I can separate religion from science by knowing science explains some things, but not everything.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I can do that. I want explanations for everything,” he said. “Perhaps one day.”

“Maybe,” she said with a smile. She snuggled against him, shutting her eyes. “Read me the poem?”

He nodded. “O Star, the fairest one in sight, we grant your loftiness the right, to some obscurity of cloud…” He continued to read and when he finished he glanced down and saw she was asleep. He reached for the quilt on the back of her sofa and draped it over them. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind him staying over for the night.

**Cozying Up**

“And it’s _your_ fault we got caught in the rain,” she grumbled, pulling the quilt tighter with her free hand as her other held the cocoa Sherlock had made.

“I made the hot chocolate to make up for it,” he said, hunkering in next to her.

She eyed it warily, then took a tentative sip before shutting her eyes and moaning in delight. “Sherlock, this is _amazing_. What did you add?”

“Cinnamon and the scrapings from a vanilla bean pod,” he said.

“Promise me you’ll make this often,” she said, taking another sip. “Every night.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

**Doppelgängers**

He wasn’t the most ardent fan of Doctor Who but Molly had enjoyed it with her father so each Saturday evening when it was on they sat in front of the telly, her curled up into him, watching it live. They’d talk about places they’d go, time periods they’d explore, alien planets they’d like to see, and he found he enjoyed it more because of that. Eventually she introduced him to the classic series, and one evening they were curled up together when he sat bolt upright. “It’s not possible,” he said.

“What isn’t?” Molly asked, frowning.

“That woman, Jean Rock?” he said. “She looks like my mum.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “Wow. Your mum was lovely when she was young, if she looked like that.”

“I suppose.” He leaned back. “Couldn’t be her, though.”

“Maybe the TARDIS is real,” she said with a smile, leaning into him. “Maybe the actress is your mum in another universe and it brought her over here.”

“I doubt it,” he said, but he grinned anyway. “The TARDIS can’t cross universes without burning up a sun, so the Doctor wouldn’t do it.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Nerd,” she said affectionately.

**Better Than Brunch**

He admired the view of her in his kitchen, parading around in black lace knickers and his purple button down shirt. It hugged at her curves in just the right places, and when she reached up to get something from a high shelf it rode up, showing off more of her firm derriere.

Yes, it was definitely a nice view, although…

He moved behind her and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “I think breakfast can wait,” he said, letting his hands slide around to the front to undo the buttons of the shirt.

“It’s more like brunch now,” she said in an amused tone, pressing back against him as his nimble fingers worked on the buttons. When he had them undone he pulled it off her shoulders, letting it settle on her arms before he nipped at her pulse point. After a moment he moved his hand lower, slipping it into the front of her knickers. She pressed back against him, grinding against his erection as he slid two fingers inside her. “Sherlock…” she moaned as he let his other hand squeeze one of her breasts.

“Brunch can wait,” he said, his lips by her ear.

**Gone Awry**

She should have known their one year anniversary wouldn’t go according to plan.

She'd settled in with an Alfonso at the bar at Kettners while she waited for him to arrive when she got a text from his brother. _Sherlock’s at Baker Street. Has broken leg. Sorry for disruption in plans._ She shook her head and finished her cocktail before going to the maître’d and asking if she could order food to take with her. Soon she had boxes full of food and was settled in a cab on her way to Baker Street. She let herself in and was met with moaning.

“I brought you dinner,” she called out.

“Our date,” he groaned from the sofa. “Molly, I’m so sorry.” She went upstairs and his eyes widened as he took in her vintage yellow dress with the white lace overlays. His eyes widened. “You look fabulous.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, holding up the boxes. “I didn’t know what you’d want so there’s duck leg, roasted venison, beef bourguignon…” She paused as she looked in the bags. “Moules marinières, lobster ‘mac n cheese’ and grilled asparagus with poached duck egg.”

“That must have cost a fortune,” he said, eyes wide.

She chuckled. “Your brother paid for it.” She took the food to the kitchen and set it down before going out to him, sitting near his waist.

“Promise next time I take you out you wear this dress,” he said. “Yellow suits you.”

“I will,” she said, leaning in to kiss him.

When she pulled away he caressed her face. “My plans went awry tonight. I was going to ask you to move in,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, a wide smile on her face. He nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss.

**A Magical Day At A Magical Place**

He knew she would appreciate it. They’d driven for over two hours, nearly 181 kilometers, just so she could see Gloucester Cathedral. Well, he was going to brush up on his Latin as well, but he knew she wanted to explore the place where some of her favorite films had been filmed.

He found her after his Saturday course was done, staring at a wall. “There was a message written in fake blood there,” she said with a smile. “Or at least I think there was. I’m not sure if this was the _exact_ wall used in the scene.”

“You are having a brilliant time being at Hogwarts, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile.

She laughed. “I know it isn’t _really_ Hogwarts, but it is a lovely place,” she said. “I’d love to go to the other filming locations outside of London. Here in England, and in Scotland.”

He studied her, taking her left hand in his. “Perhaps we could do that on our honeymoon,” he said slowly.

She blinked. “Honeymoon?”

He sank down on one knee and then reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a ring box. He opened the box and showed her the diamond and opal platinum ring. “I love you, Molly. You are the one person in my life who I trust implicitly, who I would give everything to: my time, my possessions, even my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll give me the honour.”

“Yes!” she said, wide smile on her face. “Oh my goodness, yes, I’ll marry you!” He slipped the ring on her finger and then stood, and she framed his face with her hands before kissing him. “I love you so much, Sherlock.”

“I love you too, Molly,” he said, grinning widely.

**Prelude To Wedded Bliss**

Mary had bought her some rather sexy looking lingerie for tonight, for her first night being Mrs. Molly Holmes, and she walked out of the washroom in it, appreciating the heat in Sherlock’s eyes as he looked at her. The white bustier, matching knickers, garter belt and thigh high stockings made her feel incredibly sexy. He stood and came over to her. “How did I get so lucky?” he murmured, pulling her close.

“I should ask myself the same thing,” she said, as she moved her hands to his white shirt, slowly undoing the top button and then the ones underneath. She pushed his shirt open before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck, feeling him shudder slightly. “We should get this shirt off of you.”

“We should,” he said.

She ran her hands down his chest to the waistband of his trousers and then lower, lightly running her fingers over his straining erection before undoing the button and lowering the zipper. “These too.”

“I’m all yours, Mrs. Holmes,” he said huskily, beginning to work on getting the shirt off as she pushed his trouser and pants off his hips, freeing his erection into her hands. “All yours.”

**Boy Or Girl?**

He was going to come back too late. There was no way he was going to be able to make it back in time for the appointment and there was no way he could _possibly_ make it up to her. Sonogram of his first child (quite possibly his _only_ child, depending on how angry Molly got) and he wasn’t going to make it in time. He pulled out his mobile and dialed Molly’s number.

“Not going to make it?” she asked.

“How did you know?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Well, I married you. I know you quite well. Any chance…?”

“No. I’m in Leeds until early evening,” he said with a sigh.

“Then I’ll text you a picture of the sonogram,” she said. “It’s all right, Sherlock. I promise. I know it’s a very important case.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he said gratefully.

“No, you don’t but you’ve got me all the same,” she said. “I love you, Sherlock.”

“Love you too, Molly,” he said. He hung up and then went back to working on the case for a few more hours until his text alert went off. He pulled it up and saw it was a multimedia message. He opened it and saw a photo of the sonogram. He smiled at that. Their child, he thought with immense pride. He texted her back. _Gender? SH_

After a moment there was another text response. It was another multimedia message, and he opened it up to see Molly’d had someone take a picture of her holding up a pink onesie with “Daddy’s Little Princess” on it. _Just like you wanted_ she texted back.

When he got back home hours later, he already had a list of names and ideas for the nursery and Molly just smiled and laughed, kissing him soundly.

**The Best Things**

The room was filled with silver mylar balloons with “Congratulations” type messages on them, interspersed with pink latex ones, but Molly didn’t care. Tired as she was, her attention was devoted entirely to the chair next to her. The chair held her wonderful husband, who had been awake for all eighteen hours of labour with her, who was holding the beautiful end result of it all, Olivia Joanne Holmes.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured as their daughter yawned before running his knuckle along her cheek.

“Yes, she is,” Molly said, yawning as well.

He got out of the chair, still holding Olivia and sat next to her. “You did magnificently, dear.”

“Mmm, I did, didn’t I?” she said with a smile. “In a few years, maybe I’ll be up for doing it again.”

“So we might be able to try for a son?” he asked.

She nodded. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes the Second,” she said with a smile. “Though two girls would be lovely, too.” She yawned again.

“Get some rest,” he said, leaning over and pressing a kiss into her hair. “I’ll take care of her.”

She nodded and settled in, shutting her eyes. Life, she decided, was absolutely perfect.


End file.
